Heat
by Silent Nacht
Summary: He is not the country Russia dreams of him being, but he is himself, and he is willing. In the snow, they walk together. Russia/Canada.


Details/Notes: It's Christmas, a holiday that I don't actually celebrate, so have some Canada/Russia winter fic with minimal angst and creepiness to make up for it. Reviews are appreciated, and please see my profile for the rest of my fic and my disclaimer. I'm not actually sure when this is set, historically. I had a bunch of stuff rolling around my head when I was writing it.

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Heat:

In which Canada refuses to be anyone but himself, and Russia manages to oblige.

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He doesn't understand the bittersweet note Russia has toward winter, because he has loved the snow since he can remember, since he was small enough to roll down the tiniest of drifts and have it feel like a mountain. He loves making things out of snow, and riding through it, and peeling layer after layer of clothing from his body after a long day out of doors.

Russia wanders in the snow and becomes almost lost in it. He lets it batter him from side to side, almost as if he were dancing with an unseen partner.

"Do you ever wish your house was warmer?" Russia asks him one blinding afternoon when the sun burns through the overcast sky but carries with it no heat, and he and Canada are walking, gloved hands entwined, through the forest.

Canada laughs, and tucks his hair behind his ears. "Not really, my summers are nice, and I can always go visit America when I get tired of the sleet."

Russia frowns, his ever present smile faltering, and Canada sighs.

"I know you don't get with him, but he's my brother, eh? I can't get away from him," Canada says, and laughs again to try to diffuse the tension. His conversations with Russia are like walking on ice before it has a chance to harden, but even that has its own sort of appeal.

He's tried to explain it to his family, but they don't understand.

Interesting conversations aren't always the easy ones to have, he told England the last time the man had reminded him with an edge in his voice that Canada didn't like that Russia wasn't an ally to be trusted, but those words hadn't been enough to stop the lecture that had followed.

He tells himself it's just that they forget, they forget how much he and Russia have in common, because of the starkness of their differences.

Canada knows what it's like to hike for hundreds of miles without seeing more than six people. Emptiness and vastness that he can feel in his very core, deep within himself beyond everything, beyond his government and his people.

His land was there first, and so was Russia's

Eighteen percent of the world when they walk together, hands entwined, and Canada knows that he can't be this thing that Russia wants, because he is biased. He always has been.

His heart belongs to his family.

But there is something about Russia, and the way they walk together in the snow, that makes him think that if he were a different nation altogether, things would be very different.

"How does February sound? I'd like to see one of your winters."

"But it will be so cold. Come in summer and watch the flowers bloom," Russia insists, stilling his footsteps and dragging Canada back by the force of their twined palms.

"I don't mind the cold."

His smile is warm, and his breath rises in mist from his mouth. Russia stares down at him, expression mild but internally thoughtful, and he takes that moment to study the larger country's face.

Pale blond hair carefully brushed out of his eyes, creamy skin, and the kind of face that would look entirely innocence on a human but somehow becomes dangerous and strange in Russia's possession.

But still beautiful.

"Нет, you are very resilient," Russia tells him, and Canada feels himself blushing in the cold.

"It helps that no one seems to notice me, eh?"

Russia stares down at him, and Canada can't bring himself to look away from those eyes, so dark and bright and eerily more alive than anything Canada has ever seen, up to and including the trees surrounding them, and Russia says simply, "I notice you."

"Some wouldn't call that a good thing," Canada laughs before he can stop himself, hastening to add, "Not that I think that. You're, well, excellent company on days like this."

"I would have you every day."

"But our policies are rather different, eh?" He tucks his hair behind his ears again, a nervous habit to cover up the pushy tone in his voice. Russia seems inclined to ignore him.

He cups Canada's chin in his hand, and asks him almost kindly, "You are ten times your brother, why not show him? We could show him together."

"If I did that," Canada says with a shuddering breath, and suddenly Russia's face is lost in steam, "We really would be identical."

"We?" Russia parrots.

"You and me. Me and America," Canada sighs. "I like being my own person, Russia."

"So we are only –"

"We're friends. At least, I hope that we are." He turns on Russia another smile, wide and kind and open. Because he may not be the country Russia dreams of him being, but he is himself, and he is willing.

Russia strokes his curved jaw and presses a kiss to Canada's nose.

He laughs, and sniffs, because the momentary warmth leaves his nose bright red and itching, but it's worth it to see Russia's smile as something more than just a mask. He brushes his hand through his hair this time, deliberately, and doesn't bother to stop his breath from hitching.

"Would you like to come back for drinks? Whatever you like. I'm sure I have something fitting," he asks, beginning to ramble, only to find himself cut off by Russia's lip pressed against his own, stealing his words, muffling them in his mouth, and then Canada can't remember what he's saying, but kissing Russia is much easier than talking to him.

Russia pulls away, and breathes against Canada's ear, tickling him. "I would like very much," he replies, and Canada smiles, wraps his arm around Russia in half a hug, and nods.

"Great, and maybe we can try that again, eh?" His smile shifts into something more like a smirk, and he doesn't bother to stop himself from adding, "Your mouth is very warm."

End.

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End Notes: Thank you for reading! To those out there celebrating today, Merry Christmas!


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